Carefully Forgotten
by TheSpectrumSings
Summary: ""Peeta?" She says it with a familiarity that tells me this is not the reaction to her hug that she had been expecting. That she was expecting some recognition in return. But I have none. I've not seen her before, and I don't even know how she knows my name." Peeta was not Hijacked, but made to forget Katniss during his torture in the Capitol. Mockingjay re-write. Everlark.
1. Chapter 1

**So, this fic is an experiment, really. I'm posting the first chapter now to see what the response will be and then going from there really. So if you like it, please let me know! Constructive criticism is also hugely welcome, because I need it :)**

**The fic starts from when Katniss goes to visit Peeta after the rescue, and the first couple of paragraphs are directly from Mockingjay. PoVs switch between Katniss and Peeta.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

_I'm light-headed with giddiness. What will I say? Oh, who cares what I say? Peeta will be ecstatic no matter what I do. He'll probably be kissing me anyway. I wonder if it will feel like those last kisses on the beach in the arena, the ones I haven't dared let myself consider until this moment._

_Peeta's awake already, sitting on the side of the bed, looking bewildered as a trio of doctors reassure him, flash lights in his eyes, check his pulse. I'm disappointed that mine was not the first face he saw when he woke, but he sees it now._

* * *

_Peeta's PoV_

The first thing I saw as I woke up was the bright light on the ceiling. That to begin with was odd.  
My cell didn't have a light, and the only light I got was that which came through the tiny window at the corner of the cell.

Then I noted the voices around me. None had the harsh, clipped Capitol accents I had become used to recently, and they were all talking in calm, quiet tones, as if worried to wake me.

Also, I was laying on a bed. An uncomfortable one, with scratchy sheets and needles sticking in my arm, but a bed none the less. This was not a luxury that I had been anywhere near recently.

I wonder where I could be, until my mind draws up an answer.

I remember the break-out. Hearing the shouting as the guards were taken out, and the Rebels reached my cell.

They had been wary of me at first, but after a few moments, they unlocked my cell and had taken me to the Hovercraft, explaining that they were on a mission to rescue me, Annie and Johanna- who I had spent the last 2 months listening to the screams of- and were taking us back to District 13.

They told that it still existed, that the Capitol had lied to us (Surprise Surprise!) about 13's demise, that it had been rebuilt underground and that the Districts were being led by 13 in a revolt against the Capitol. Apparently, it was going well for the Rebels. Most of the districts apparently were under Rebel control.

This had all been a lot to take in, and in my weak state after the torturing for information, and the torturing because they just generally felt like it, and lack of food and sunlight, mixed with the exertion it had taken to fight our way back out of the prison one we had escaped, after about an hour on the Hovercraft I had passed out.

This is where I had awoken. Evidently a hospital, probably 13, wearing nothing more than one of those embarrassing hospital gowns, and hooked up to a machine that was bleeping every few seconds.

After a few moments of taking in my surroundings and making sure that I didn't have any injuries I would make worse by moving, I sat up.

The moment it was noticed that I was awake, I was swarmed around by three doctors, who ask me if I'm feeling alright, check my pulse, and shine a bright light in my eyes, in that order.

Before they can can do anything else, the door to the hospital room opens, and a girl steps through. All I can note of her is her euphoric expression and the long braid trailing down her back before she flings herself into my arms.

I'm entirely unsure of what to do. I don't often randomly hug people so I don't know what to do under these circumstances.

I am initially winded by the force of her hug, but once I am over the shock, I question who she is. I didn't recognise her I her entry to her room, and yet she is hugging me like it is a natural reaction.

Maybe to her I am not a random person. Judging by how happy she looked upon entering the room and the way her shoulders shake as she sobs into my shoulder, I would hazard a guess that she knows me very well.

Either that or she has just stepped into the wrong room by mistake. That explanation would make the most sense. Yes, I decide, she is probably here for one of the other soldiers and has simply been informed of the wrong room.

Feeling pleased with my deduction, I allow my arms to rest limply at my sides before opening my mouth to inform her of her mistake. But before I can, she looks up, obviously sensing my hesitation.

I expect her to be shocked, then to realise she has the wrong room and scarper.

What I do not expect her to do is ask my name.

"Peeta?" She says it with a familiarity that tells me this is not the reaction to her hug that she had been expecting. That she was expecting some recognition in return. But I have none. I've not seen her before, and I don't even know how she knows my name.

I nod "That's me. And you are?"

Now she has moved back I can see her face. It's red from crying, and her silvery grey eyes are swimming with tears. Now I know I have definitely never met her before. I wouldn't forget those eyes in a hurry.

He eyebrow knit together in confusion. "Katniss, Peeta. I'm Katniss." She tells me, as if it something I should definitely know.

"Nice name." I tell her, unsure I what to say, and very conscious of the fact that she is still half sitting in my lap. "So, am I meant to know who you are?" It comes our harsher than I mean it to, and I can tell that harsh is not something that this girl needs.

Her look of confusion deepens, before she says- with a strained laugh- "Very funny, Peeta."

She says it like she is willing to accept it if only I reassure her that I am joking. Only I'm not.

I shake my head to indicate that I really don't know what she's talking about.

Comprehension. That is the expression she has as she takes in my words. Coupled with a look of horror, dawns on her face as she slowly gets off the bed and begins to back away, shaking her head in disbelief. Just before reaching the door, she choked back a sob, before turning on her heel and flying out the door.

I find myself gaping like a goldfish at the situation that had just escalated in front of me. I turn to towards the doctors in the corner, who were all frantically jotting things down on the clipboards before them. I wanted to ask them what was going on. They seemed as confused as I was although their confusion seemed to be directed towards me.

"Welcome back, boy." A man greets me from the doorway. He may sound gruff, but I can tell he's pleased to see me.

"Haymitch!" I call, gesturing for him to come further into the room.

He looks at me warily. I thought the Doctors would have already established the fact that I'm safe to be around.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Er- not great, considering I've just spent 2 months being tortured, but a hell of a lot better than before."

Haymitch nods but I can see there is something he isn't saying.

"What I mean is, how are you considering Katniss just ran down the corridor to go cry in a closet somewhere?"

"Katniss? That girl that was just in here?"

Haymitch nods.

"I don't know." I tell him, suddenly feeling defensive and slightly guilty to for making the girl 'Katniss' cry.

"I think she knew me. She acted like she did, but I don't have a clue who she was. When I told her that she ran out crying. Why? Who is she?"

Haymitch is silent for a moment and I wonder what thoughts are running through his head. It seems like a strange situation, but I don't see why he's so concerned. Sure, I'm happy to apologise to the girl is she is really upset, but I feel that if we are really in the middle of a rebellion, then surely there are more important things.

"Peeta-" I look up. Haymitch rarely call me by my real name. Maybe this does allude to the gravity of the situation. He is also using a tone that you would use with a frightened animal, if you were worried it may lash out.

"-In you first games, do you remember who your district partner was?"

I think it's a strange question. One that seems irrelevant in the circumstances.

But I search for an answer anyway, knowing that Haymitch does everything for a reason. Even drinking himself into a stupor has a certain logic to it, even if it is one I can't pretend to understand.

So, I rack my brain, trying I find a name amongst so many thoughts and memories. I come up blank. I know this is something that I should know well. That even if they didn't last long in the arena, the name of your fellow district tribute is not something you should ever forget. However, I am at a loss. It is as if whenever I think about whoever this person may be, a blank white space fills and echoes through mind.

"I don't know." I finally admit.

Haymitch looks like all his worst fears have come to pass all at once.

"Shit." He murmurs. He shuts his eyes, as if he is searching for answer and the world is a distraction from his thoughts, before walking up to the main doctor and pulling him out of the room.

I wonder what could be being said that would need him to be so certain that I cannot eavesdrop. But I know sudden forgetfulness isn't normal. Still though, who is Haymitch to say anything about it, doesn't he spend half his life trying to forget what happened in his games?

That girl can't be my district partner, because there's only one winner, and evidently, that was me. So who is she, and why is she Haymitch's first thought when I wake up?

She does have the Seam look from back home, with dark hair, olive skin and grey eyes, but that's the only recognition I have for her.

I think that she was just an admirer from back home- I seemed to have few since the Games ended- but quickly dismiss it. She seemed to know me better than that, and Haymitch wouldn't think anything of it if it was that simple.

Haymitch enters the room again, the weary looking doctor behind him.

"So, Peeta, I spoken to some of the doctors and we've come to a conclusion about your torture in the Capitol."

I nod, unsure of what to say, simply trying to keep the memories of my 'interrogation' at bay. They hadn't wanted answers. They knew I hadn't known about the rebels. They simply wanted to cause me pain. Me, and those that I cared about around me, thus working the agony back to me.

It was my personal form of hell.

Listening to other people's screams and having nothing that I could do about it. Sometimes, if they were feeling lazy, or if they knew that torturing anyone any further would push them over the edge and they would die (making them useless), they would just play me recordings of the screaming. The crying. The incoherent begging for mercy.

Eventually, it didn't matter who's screaming it was. It didn't matter if it was Annie or Johanna or any one of the people they had in that prison, I began to lock my mind down at even the slightest hint of a raised voice.

My relief at the rescue had been so huge, that I was just accepting everything about this place, simply because I didn't have to listen to the continuous screaming, wailing, crying of those who in such inconsolable pain.

The avoxes were the worst. They could barely make any sounds at all. Soon it was only Darius left. Lavinia had been lucky, she didn't have to go through anything more. But I am probably most familiar with Darius' guttural, gagging animal noises than any other sound. I think it may be what haunts me most.

The screaming wasn't the only torture that had for me, but it was certainly the one that affected me more than any other. And didn't they know it.

I must have looked as faraway as I felt, because the doctor clears his throat and I am brought back to the present.

I can see in Haymitch's eyes that he pities me, so I know he must have spotted me going off into my mind, but he says nothing of it.

The doctor seems to decide to take charge of the conversation, picking up where Haymitch left off.

"So, as we were saying, we think something happened to your memory in the Capitol. We think that it may have been tampered with. It could be natural, but so far, we are guessing it was intentional on the Capitol's part, judging by what it is you have forgotten-"

"What have I forgotten?" I cut him off, rather abruptly, but I don't care, neither of them are making any sense.

"We aren't sure entirely, but we would like to ask you couple of questions to see exactly what you have forgotten, an if our theory is correct, then there is only one thing, or rather only one person, that has been wiped from your memory." He tries to say the last part as though it is a positive thing. Like it could have been worse. It probably could have been but that isn't the point. The point is that their biggest fear seems to the very thing they were reassuring me with.

"Alright." I agree. "But this girl, Katniss, she's who you think I've forgotten?" I ask, just to clarify.

They both nod.

"Who is she to me then?" I ask, hoping I can remember her, seeing it seems to be so important to everyone else.

"Well, we aren't really sure what to say on your feelings towards each other, so we thought it best if you met her yourself?"

"Okay." Agreeing seems to be the easiest option, and it isn't like I have anything to object to.

The Doctor nods and leaves the room, gesturing to his two junior doctors to follow him. I'm relieved, because I have an awful lot of questions for Haymitch, none of which have much to do with the previous conversation.

I decide to start casually.

"So, how's the rebellion going?" I ask.

Haymitch narrows his eyes, easily seeing through my feigned nonchalance.

To be honest, I'm scared of what I'll hear. I want to know why we aren't in 12. Where my family is. Why my brothers haven't visited, cracking stupid jokes.

"The campaign against the Capitol is going well. We almost have all the district, except 2, and we're hoping to crack that in just a couple of weeks now." He tells me.

Just the tone of his voice makes me wince. He sounds like this is the sort of information that he clings to during this Rebellion. That everyone clings to, for dear life, praying that they don't let go, because if they do then their hope will come crashing down around them, and the Capitol will rise once more.

"Okay," I say slowly "But what aren't you telling me?"  
I know it's important and I know it's not to be ignored. If it was something Haymitch wasn't even able to ward off with a bottle, then it was definitely bad. Then again, there had been an awful lot of bad lately. Far more than to outweigh the good.

"Peeta. I'm not going to be able to make this sound any better than it is." He tells me, and I'm bored of the delay, and now frantic to find what's happened.

And then I am told the worst. That District 12, my home, the only place I truly knew, had been burned to ash by Capitol bombers the moment we broke out of the Quell.

I was told that only a tenth of the population survived the attack, and that my family were not among them.

I was numb. I had been told the news, but the emotion hadn't got to me yet.

I hadn't processed the information, and was only dimly aware of what Haymitch was saying. I knew it would come to me later.

I also knew that I would feel it most in the night. I always had nightmares. Mostly I didn't even remember what they were about. Now, I would know the subject exactly.

The pain doesn't wait though. It starts only minutes after Haymitch stops speaking, washing over me in waves.

Starting with the very littlest things.

I will never ice cakes and cookies in the bakery again.

I will never watch my dad haggle for squirrels.

Never have a spontaneous wrestling match with Rye again.

No more school. No more brothers. No more bakery. No more of my old friends.

No more coal-dusted paths or swarming markets or watching beautiful orange sunrises from my window in the Victor's Village. No more District 12. And I can't bear it.

I know it could be seen as weak, but I cry. A small tear slides down my face, followed by another, and another. I collapse back against the bed, as the horror washes over me.

Haymitch, clears his throat, looking uncomfortable, before walking out of the room. I don't react. I far too drawn into my thoughts for that.

* * *

_Katniss's PoV_

I run down the corridors, desperate to get to somewhere that I know no one will find me. I settle on a broom cupboard, and drop to my knees against the wall, and begin to cry.

Silently at first, because I don't want anyone to hear someone bawling in a broom cupboard, and for them to come and investigate, but eventually, I can't hold it in anymore, and my whole being is wracked with sobs, for this new loss that I am failing to weather through.

I should have known something like this would happen. They know that physical torture for him wouldn't be enough to break either of us, not anymore. We are too used to it.

But this? I never imagined this. Not because I underestimated the Capitol's cruelty, but simply because it was unthinkable. He had loved me so long, I had almost taken it for granted. That his love would always be there, no matter what torture either of us was put through.

And just when I thought I was able to return- No. I can't bring myself to think like that. That will just bring pain, and I can't afford to feel any more now.

If I admit anything to myself, then that would be accepting what I feel and if I do that I know I've lost part of myself forever. But now he doesn't know who I am, and no doubt he never will. If this was the least bit reversible then the Capitol wouldn't have done it.

They wouldn't give anyone hope like that. They know exactly how dangerous hope is now.

And so do I.

I have to forget about Peeta now. He is safe, but I know that trying and failing to try make him remember me is something I won't be able to handle. It would break me completely, which no doubt, is exactly what Snow wants, so I definitely can't give in.

Having reached this conclusion, and after crying myself out for the time being, I rise from my hiding spot behind a mop bucket at leave the cupboard. I ascertain no one sees me leave, because I might want to return to this spot again, and I don't want anyone else to know the location of my most recent hiding place.

I know the dinner bell must have gone hours ago, but I don't care about that right now.

I know my eyes must be red from crying and I don't want anyone to see, so I decide to head back to our compartment. No one else is there. No doubt both Prim and my mother are attending the rescue casualties. I try not to think on the topic, because I know exactly what, or rather who, will be brought to the front of my mind.

I wash my face and dab my eyes, trying to make myself look less like I had just spent the last couple of hours crying in a broom cupboard.

I know that the moment anyone notices me I'm going to get called to Command, but I don't want to go just yet. Instead, I head to the stark chest of draws in the corner and rifle through the contents until I find the pearl.

I sit holding rolling it against the ball of my hand, feeling the perfect smooth surface, cold against my calloused fingers.  
I don't cry this time, but simply allow myself to think, and to grieve what what was, and what I thought there could have been, and what would never happen.  
Me and Peeta. Any thoughts like that must be condemned completely so I go though them, one by one, and wipe them from my mind, forcing myself not to be so ridiculously sentimental.  
He is alive, and so long as I perform as the Mockingjay, no one is going to try and hurt him.  
The responsibility has been taken from my shoulders, but replaced by a sense or failure.  
Because even though Peeta is alive, he was not unscathed.  
He had had part of his memory torn from him and it was unlikely it would have it returned.  
I realise I have circled back to my thoughts from the broom cupboard, and shut off my thoughts before the tears can flow.  
_Be strong, Katniss. No crying. No thinking about what you shouldn't be. _

I head down to Command, deciding I may as well save some poor messenger the trip. When I arrive I am not disappointed, as everyone who ever usually has a place at these meeting has been called.

I take a seat, separating Plutarch and Fulvia. Even as I just entered the room all heads have swiveled towards me and are now gazing intently, waiting for me to begin.

I'm not sure what they're expecting. A breakdown? A full on screaming tantrum?

Instead, I'm sure I surprise all of them, when I turn and direct my gaze to President Coin, waiting for her to begin.

She says nothing, and after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Plutarch takes over and pipes up.

"So, we all know why we're here, we may as well get on with it." He turns towards me.  
"Our problem is that a some point during his time in the Capitol, Peeta Mellark's memory has been tampered with, right?"  
There is general assent from everyone in the room. I say nothing.

"So, he's been made to forget Katniss. We think this has been done to unhinge her. To make he feel vulnerable, because he was her hope and all that jazz."

I'm trying quite hard not to be irritated by how Plutarch is talking. With his stupid Capitol expressions and theories, and talking about me as if I'm not there.

But that isn't what is getting to me most. What is getting to me is the fact of how right Plutarch is. Because Peeta, even if I didn't realise it at the time, was what- or rather, who- kept me together, after the Games, and just before the Quell.

He had been taking care of me for so long and now that was gone. He wouldn't remember me or what things had been like between us.

I know I caused him a lot of pain, but he was always there, and so ready to take anything I flung his way, whether it was unkind words or actions or friendship, or even those uncertain kisses where neither of us knew what they meant. He accepted so much of me that I took him for granted.

Plutarch is right. Peeta was my hope. He was my hope that there was still good in Humanity.  
That people could still be kind. Like the dandelion, coming through in Spring when I thought everything else was lost.

Finnick was right, when he said that only Peeta won the Games by accident. Peeta was so incorruptible, and so unwilling to harm anyone, only to protect.

He was someone who should never have to go through that. No one should, but him more that most. And it was just proof of him and his character that it didn't break him.  
That he could still be there to hold me when I was wrapped up in my own nightmares, even when he was plagued by his own.

I think that is one of the things I miss most about Peeta. It's been so long since I have felt his arms wrapped around me. I want him back.

Plutarch is now talking about how the rescue went. I have already seen Annie, so I know she is okay, and he says Johanna is rescued as well. We had only had a few injuries on our side, and they will all recover, but apparently the huge team of Capitol guards at the prison weren't quite so lucky.

It was too easy.

That is the conclusion they have drawn, either it was meant to be more of a trap but it failed, though that is unlikely. The second option is that this was what was meant to happen. Peeta was meant to be rescued in this state.  
It was a trap for me. To break me.

"...And we think that Mr Mellark had his memories hacked to forget Katniss, so that she would in turn, be ruined at his lack of feeling for her. It was an ingenious plan, really." Plutarch is continues his lecture, sounding just like the Capitol Gamemaker he was.

"Making him forget everything wouldn't have had such an effect as this. It is the fact that Katniss is ignored, or no longer included in his memories that would have the strongest force. This was obviously something they were planning to carry out for a while.  
The technique to do it would have easy, it just would have taken sometime. There are drugs that induce forgetfulness, and they would just have to make him associate it with a particular thing, or person."  
I can tell he wants to say more, but I interrupt him.

"Can we do anything about it though?" I ask, dreading the answer.

Plutarch hesitates, before glancing towards Beetee, who seems to refusing to look in my direction, probably out of pity. I've been getting a lot of that recently.

"We think it is possible that some of his memories can be brought back, and there are ways of jogging the memory, so to speak. You can help-"

"Yes, of course, I'll do anything." I interrupt. Everyone who wasn't already staring has now turned to face me. I quickly try to remedy my outburst.

"I mean, I'll do whatever is needed." I didn't mean to say it in the first place.  
I need to make up my mind about Peeta, otherwise I will be continually yo-yo-ing between whether I am going to try and get him back or just try and forget about him, and save myself the heartache.

Plutarch nods to me. "We'll get them to notify you when you are needed. Might not be for a while, apparently he's grieving now."

I understand. District 12. Peeta's lost all his family. I haven't seen them, so I assume so. I know he was close to his father and brothers, and he must have felt some sense of loyalty at least to his mother, if not love.  
So I understand. Or empathise, at least.

Plutarch carries on with the meeting, going on to how we a progressing in the Districts. I block most of it out, not really caring, thinking to hard for that. When the meeting is over I check my schedule.  
_5pm. Reflection. _  
If the injuries were as few as Plutarch says then Prim may well be back in our compartment by now.  
With this in mind, I head to the compartment, very much in need of some sisterly comforting.


	2. Chapter 2

**So. Chapter 2. Thank you to my reviewers! It helps so much with the encouragement to write, as I'm sure you know! And to everyone that followed and even favourited!**

**I have taken a couple of little liberties with the timeline to make the plot run smoother, sorry, but I think it was necessary. **  
**Thanks! :)**

* * *

_Katniss PoV_  
A week passes, filled with meetings and naps in broom cupboards and just_ so many _tears that I cannot contemplate how weak I have become without wanting to hit myself around the head with my bow.  
Peeta is still the first thing in my thoughts and that _scares me_.  
I haven't been been back to see him. Haymitch updates me on how he is. Apparently he hasn't wanted to see anyone. The people he probably wants to see are those who are left behind in the ash in District 12.

After the meeting last week, I found Prim. She helped me decide for definite that I need to help Peeta. She says I don't have anything to lose. She's right really, though it's a sad thing to hear from your 13 year old sister.

I went to visit Gale a few days ago too, because I had had enough of crying for a little while.  
Gale has been spending a lot of time working on traps.  
Human traps. Ones that play on the weaknesses of humans to cause as much destruction as possible.  
When I said that I supposed there was no rule books for what can be done, he told me there were. He said it was the same rule book that allowed Peeta, someone who felt so much for me, to forget me.  
That was Gale playing on my human weakness and I let him even though I couldn't justify it.

On the seventh day after the rescue, I am sitting with Prim, my mother and the Hawthornes at lunch, when a message arrives for me. I suppose lunch is the only time they know for definite where I'll be. That and hunting.  
The message says, in very sharp, perfectly upstanding letters:

_Katniss Everdeen, _  
_Disregard current timetable and report to Medical Ward C, Room 12 in 15 minutes_.

Prim reads over my shoulder.  
"Ward C's the recovery ward. You'll be going to see-"

"Peeta." I finish for her. Yes. I will finally see Peeta.

* * *

_Peeta's PoV_

It was yesterday when I had decided I had had enough of wallowing in grief and self-pity. Thoughts of my family were still there, lurking in the back of my mind. They always will be, but I can't sit here staring into space much longer, my thoughts chasing round and round in circles, going back over the same thing again and again.

The moment I said I had had enough, all the doctors that had been worriedly watching me for the past few days began to tell me all their different theories about what had happened to me in the Capitol.

I tell them I don't remember much of it in detail, other that an appalling amount of screaming. They say that doesn't mean anything, as the drugs they think they would have given would have made my time there hazy anyway.  
They also say that the target for my memory loss was the girl who came to see me just after the rescue.  
Her name is Katniss Everdeen, but they won't tell me anything more, other than a few words they think I might associate with her.

"We aren't sure how you would describe her, but a few words that we have here that could be associated with her are 'Friend. Victor. Fiancée. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute and Ally.' Doctor Adams, the main doctor who treats me, lists.

I'm not sure how to react to half of these, so I work through them aloud.  
"Friend. Pretty self explanatory, I guess. But how were we friends? Like Delly, from when we were little kids? Or more recent?"  
Delly had survived the bombing, along with her brother, and she had come to visit me when I was still locked in my own head.  
She had tried to coax me back, but gave up when she realised only I would be able to get back by myself. Finnick and Annie had come around, trying that too, but they had as much success as Delly.

Neither of them mentioned the mysterious 'Katniss Everdeen', but I think they was told not to, judging by the few words the doctor spoke to both of them upon their entry to my room.

Through all my questions Doctor Adams hasn't said a thing, but is scribbling furiously on a clipboard.  
I get back to the list of words.  
"Victor. Of the Games? She was my district partner, right? I think that's what Haymitch meant. But then I don't get how she's still alive.  
"Fiancée. Er..."  
I pause. Fiancée to whom? The obvious answer is that she was my fiancée, otherwise it is unlikely that word would be included. But surely, though everything, you would remember something like that. That would be an awful person to forget.

"Neighbor. That one's fine. We would have lived near each other in the Victor's Village right?"  
I'm glad that one was simple enough. I'm starting to feel like this is a test and I definitely failing.

"Hunter. What would she hunt?"  
A thought makes my blood run cold. Tributes? In the arena? Like a Career? She didn't seem bloodthirsty when I saw her, all red rimmed eyes and braided hair. I dismiss the Tribute-hunter theory.  
The only other sort of hunter I know is Gale Hawthorne, who hunts- _hunted, _in the woods outside 12. My father occasionally bought snare-caught squirrels from him. He was on my rescue team. Another survivor from 12.  
That makes more sense.

I go on to the next word.

"Tribute. Yep, that's fine, got that. And Ally? That's fine too, in the Arena. I don't remember having any in the first. But I suppose that doesn't mean much, under the circumstances."  
As I finish up the words, I turn towards Doctor Adams, awaiting his reaction. I'm not sure what he was expecting, really.  
Or what I was expecting. It's a weird feeling, knowing you've forgotten something and not knowing what it is. I literally can't remember what, or rather who I've forgotten.

That was yesterday, and apparently they deemed me ready to finally meet her myself.  
I know I've already seen her, but this time I'll get to talk to her properly.

I look up as a nurse knocks on the door, and leads Katniss in. She asks her if she wants tea, but Katniss shakes her head, and the nurse is dismissed.

I'm not sure how to start. I stare at her for a few seconds, memorizing her face. Her hair is once again in a braid, and the circles around her eyes are dark, giving her a gaunt look.  
She looks like she has just been invited to a funeral.

I hold out my hand in greeting to her. "I'm Peeta." I say. I know she already knows this, but I'm just trying to make things easier by introducing myself, and hoping she will do likewise.

Instead, she looks at me like I'm the Grim Reaper, coming to tell her that her time is up. She shakes her head, as if to physically shake away her thoughts, and plasters a very fake smile on her face.

"Katniss." She greets, but doesn't shake my hand. I can't blame her.  
This must be insanely weird for her, being introduced to someone you've already met and known. Known well enough to be willing to die for them, apparently. And marry them.

We sit down on the two uncomfortable metal chairs that have been set out.  
She sits with her back straight and her head held high, but her hands are twisting in her lap and they are a dead giveaway as to how anxious she is.  
She looks like an animal that is trying to make itself bigger to scare others away. To scare _me_ away.  
I want to do something to calm her, but nothing is appropriate for someone I just met, so I leave her be.

"So, what are we meant to talk about?" She asks, and I laugh, because I was about to ask her the same thing.

She looks at me questioningly.

"Nothing." I tell her, and she briefly looks like she might go on a killing spree at my answer.  
I almost laugh again. Of course she would be one of those people who got frustrated at an unanswered question. Almost everyone is.

"I think they want you to tell me about you, and try and get some sort of recognition out of me. But I'd rather you didn't do that." I say, truthfully.

"Why not? It might work."

"It might, but seriously, how likely do you think that is?" I ask.

Katniss looks at the ground and continues to twist her hands, fidgeting in her chair.  
"I don't know." She tells me quietly, and I realise how many times she's wondered this over the past week.

"I don't want you to tell me, because I'd rather remember for myself. If I'm told all of it, then it would feel like I was in the audience, rather than actually there.  
They offered to show me footage of us, together, but I said no. For the time being anyway. Eventually it might help, but first I want to talk to you."  
I finish off, feeling like I've justified my opinions enough to convince her now, because she is nodding. But she still seems confused.

"But then what do we talk about?"

"I'm not sure. Talk to me, about anything. You have to talk to your friends, Katniss, and I've got a feeling we're going to have to be friends in the middle of this war. And to be friends, we have to tell each other stuff." I say. I'm surprised when she bursts out laughing.

"Sorry." She says, not looking the slightest bit sorry. "But you said almost the exact same thing to me on our Victory Tour."

This time I laugh, understanding the joke. But _our_ Victory Tour? I store that away in my mind to analyse later.  
The silence descends again. It's not uncomfortable, but I would rather it was filled and this time was used wisely.

"Let's talk about home." I suggest. I'm pretty sure this must be a sad topic for Katniss too, by the look she gives me, but she nods.

"What do you miss most?" She begins, and I think.

"My dad. My brothers. The bakery. The smell of proper, real bread, rather than the grey stuff they have here. Just home, generally."  
Katniss nods again, and I'm sure she understands.

"How about you?" I ask.

"The woods." She tells me, and I'm sure she can see my confusion.

"In 12, I used to hunt animals, beyond the fence. It kept me and my family alive for a long time. It's the best place I'll ever be."

"I wish I could have seen it." And I do. I thought I knew almost everything about District 12. It had been my home my entire life. But Katniss Everdeen knew a whole extra world that I didn't.

Katniss just nods, solemn at the reminder of what has been lost.

"I almost took you once. I wanted to run away." It's so quiet I barely hear it. I don't know what to say to it, so I say nothing.

"So you were from the Seam then?" I'm careful not to put any negativity in my comment, or any hint of me avoiding what she just said. It's a genuine question, and I don't want her to take offense.

"Yeah." She tells me. "My mother was from Town though, and that's why, if you ever see my sister, she doesn't look a thing like me. She's all blonde hair and blue eyes." I can tell from her voice the great love she must have for her sister.

"In two braids?" I ask. Katniss nods. "I've seen her walking past a few times. She's a medic?" I ask, though I think it's unlikely. She looks very young.

"She's in training. My mother was a healer, back in 12, so she's acting as nurse here. My sister helped her out. They both have a bit of a gift with that sort of thing."  
Katniss sounds so proud, and I wonder what it must be like to have a better gift than baking bread, like hunting and healing.

"What about your dad?" I ask, and then wish I hadn't.

"He was a miner. My mother ran off from Town to be with him. He was killed when I was eleven. Explosion." Most of this is said matter-of-factly, but I can tell it pains her. I feel uncomfortable for bringing it up.

"I'm sorry."  
"Don't be. It happened to a lot of people."  
"That doesn't make it okay."  
"No. You're right. It doesn't. But it doesn't mean you have to pity me."  
"You don't like pity?"  
"Does anyone?"  
"Yes, actually. Most people love being pitied."

"I think I've had enough of it for a lifetime. Unfortunately, I have to rely on it for my continued existence here in 13." She tells me, and I know she wants me to ask why.

"What do you actually do here?" I ask. She's obviously more important than your average 13 citizen, although that might just be the perks of being a Victor still in effect.

"You mean besides hiding? I'm meant to be the Mockingjay. The face of the Rebellion. Not that they let me do anything." She sounds bitter, and I'm not surprised.

"You mean they don't let you fight?" I can sympathise with this. I can't wait to get out of this hospital, and then I want to do anything I can for the War Effort.

"Nope. We had a bit of fiasco in 8. Now I'm stuck here filming propos."

"Propos?"

"Promotional clips. They get shown in all the District to try and boost morale, and get more people on the Rebel side. It doesn't work, but they like to think it does."

"I did some of those. For the Capitol. Interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Why don't you think they work?" From what I'd heard, mine had been successful.

"I know you did. You saved the revolution with your warning. Mine don't work because I'm in them, and I can't act. Finnick's were fine. "

I brush off the comment about Finnick  
"Why is it an act?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you want to help the Rebel side? Why do you need to act?"

"Because it's all fake. They dress me up for battle, cover me in fake blood and feed me words. Or at least they used to. Then we managed one good propo, which is what resulted in you being forced to do your interviews. Now they just leave me alone. Mostly."  
Katniss trails off. It's funny to think of this slight, defeated-looking girl being the face of the Rebellion. Maybe she just feels defeated by what she is having to face at the moment. Me.

The conversation lulls again and I do nothing to rescue it.  
After a few minutes, one of the doctors comes and tells Katniss it's time to go, and that a note would be along for the next one of our little 'sessions'.

As Katniss leaves she offers me one of the saddest smiles I have ever seen, which I return, and then she turns to go.

When she's gone, I can't help but think that Katniss, though she is someone I would like to get to know, she isn't someone I feel like I _knew._


End file.
